Harry Potter Living Life
by Moonlight333
Summary: Harry is now seventeen and while dealing with his rotten relatives and the constant threat of Voldemort, he is trying to make his life as normal as possible. While balancing all of this Harry has to find out the truth about Dumbledore's death....
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter**

**Harry Potter Living Life**

**Chapter 1**

Harry sat in a very stiff chair in the Dursley's living room on Sunday evening. He was very bored, and the whole house smelled terrible. The reason there was a bad stench in the air was what Aunt Petunia was cooking. Fish. Harry hated fish, it was his least favorite found next to vomit-flavored jellybeans.

"Harry!" yelled his annoying Aunt. "Set the table!"

"Yes, Aunt Petunia," Harry said as he walked slowly towards the kichen.

When he entered the room, he found Dudley in one of his temper-tantrums. "I told you the last time we had fish never to make it again!" he yelled, stomping his feet. "I specifically told you that I hate fish!"

"It's good for ones appearance, my little Dudders!" Harry's Aunt said trying to calm down her son, "It will help you keep that charming and lean look of yours and all of the girls will be lining up at the door to date you." Then she noticed Harry in the doorway. "Set the table, now!" she spat at him.

"Yes, Aunt Petunia."

As Harry began to set the table, he heard the front door open.

"I'm home!" called Harry's very mean, very annoying, very large Uncle Vernon.

"I made your favorite!" exclaimed Uncle Vernon's wife as she hugged what she could, for he was very large, and kissed him on the cheek.

"I've been looking forward to fish all week!" Uncle Vernon stated to Aunt Petunia. He sat down at the end of the table on picked up his fork and knife. Aunt Petunia put fish on each of their plates, more on Harry's than Dudley's; fish was the only food that Aunt Petunia would give Harry a lot of, this was because she knew how much Harry hated it.

Harry looked at his food; he took a few bites thinking that he should eat it rather that starve.

After Harry and his relatives finished their dinner, Harry went up to his room. He was anxious, for the night to come was his Birthday, more like Birthnight, and he would be turning seventeen years old. He changed into his pajamas and got into bed, laying there staring at his watch, which read 8:00, waiting for four hours to pass by and wondering weather or not he would throw up the fish he had stuffed down earlier.

10:50, 11:30, 11:40, 11:45, 11:50, 11:55, 11:58, 11:59 and eight seconds, 11:59 and five seconds, 11:59 and one second……………….

"I'm seventeen," Harry whispered to himself, for he didn't want to wake the Dursley's up. At that moment, four owls soared in through Harry's bedroom window. They landed on his bed, next to him. Harry took the card that a very small owl, Pigwidgen, was holding. It read:

Green Eyes,

Happy Birthday!

How are the muggles treating you?

I hope that you are well.

Here is a gift for you, I hope you like it.

Guy With Red Hair

Harry thought that the letter was quite amusing; Green Eyes, mean people, Guy With Red Hair. It was a pretty good idea of Ron to put the letter in code; for the most unlikely event, if the owl was to be intercepted. Harry took the package from the tiny owl and ripped it open.

Enclosed was candy. Half eaten candy that is. There was an opened chocolate frog package – the frog was missing a leg. A lollypop looked like it had been licked. A cauldron cake was missing two bites. It looked like every piece of candy was meddled with in one way or another.

Harry laughed to himself – he knew how much Ron loved to eat, especially candy.

Harry looked at the other three owls as he put Pigwidgen on to of Hedwig's cadge, who was hooting at the very hyper owl. He took a letter from a big brown owl that was carrying a medium sized parcel.

Black hair,

Happy Birthday! You are now seventeen years old. Congratulations! I wonder, are you still planning on not going back to Hog School? Freckle Face and I will do whatever you do; we will always be with you - no matter what. Enclosed is a gift that I bought for you, and at a reasonable price, too. It may come in handy – who really knows? Be careful when you open it, I can be sharp at times. I hope that you like it.

Love From,

Bushy Hair

It seemed as though both Ron and Hermione thought it best to put their letters in disguise. Good thinking, too; what with Harry being Harry and the whole Wizarding World wanting something to do with him and all.

Harry took the package from the owl that had held Hermione's letter and opened it. "Wow," Harry muttered.

Enclosed was a switchblade. The handle was looked like it was made out of wood, but when Harry pushed the button that was on the side of it, a sharp shinning blade came out. Harry looked at it from all angles. He saw his initials engraved on the blade near the handle – HJP. Harry pressed the button again and the blade went inside the handle. He stood up and put the weapon into the back pocket of his jeans, thinking that might get the chance to use it on someone from the dark side – Voldemort, Death Eaters, Inferi.

Harry looked at the two remaining owls, wondering who they could be from. He took a letter from a tanish brown coloured owl and opened it. It looked as though the person who wrote it was in a hurry.

Hiya, er, I don't know wha' ter call ya, well you kno who ya are,

Happy Birthday!

It's not every year one fellow turns seventeen, eh?

I can't quite say that I am looking forward to another year at the Castile, but I can't wait 'till I see ya again!

Things are kinda quiet around here, what with Dumbledore gone and all.

It's kinda sad really.

Yer Very Tall Friend

Harry got a sad feeling from Hagrid's letter. He couldn't imagine going back to Hogwarts with no Dumbledore to await him. He noticed that Hagrid's owl was holding a rather large square package. Harry took it and ripped off the paper. A book entitled **'How to Survive the Worst' **was enclosed. Harry flipped through it and saw the titles of some of the chapters - Curses, Wounds, Deaths. "Hmmm," Harry simply said and set the book aside.

The last owl was an auburn colour. It held no letter, just a very long parcel. Harry took the parcel from the owl and it immediately flew away through the still open window. Harry opened the mysterious package and what came out was a shock. A sward. "Wow," Harry said again.

The sward looked exactly like Godric Gryffindor's sward that Harry had used in his second year at Hogwarts to kill a baskalisc. The only two differences were that the sward didn't have 'Godric Gryffindor' imprinted on it – it read 'Harry Potter'. Harry's sward also was also a little longer than Gryffindor's.

"Who could this be from?" Harry asked himself unbelievingly as he swung the sward around.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

"Harry!" a very annoying voice yelled at the famous seventeen-year-old. "Come down stairs this instant! You need to look after the bacon!"

This was usually how Harry awoke each and every day of the summer break.

"Harry!"

"Yes, Aunt Petunia," Harry mumbled as he got up from his messy bed. He turned his head and saw that his owl, Hedwig, was gone. _She must be getting the mail. _Harry thought. He headed down the stairs to endure another boring, miserable day.

"Harry!" his Aunt yelled again.

"I'm coming!" Harry replied angrily. When he entered the kitchen, Harry saw that everything was the same as usual; grumpy Uncle Vernon, moody Dudley, and frantic Aunt Petunia. Harry went to the stove to look after the bacon. When he got within two feet of it, the bacon spat at him, it may taste good but it has some cooking complications.

"Hurry up, boy! We're hungry!" Uncle Vernon exclaimed.

_Shut the hell up! _Harry thought to himself, but "Yes, Uncle Vernon," left his mouth.

After Harry and the Dursley's finished their breakfast, the Dursley's went out to go school shopping for Dudley; little did they know, Dudley usually didn't go to school. He hung out at a parking lot down the road from his school all day with his gang friends causing trouble. The Dursley's always received phone calls from Dudley's school, claiming that he was skipping classes and hanging out with gangs. Harry's aunt and uncle always ignored them and said that their little Duddykins would never do things of the sort.

Harry's only living relatives going school shopping popped a question into his mind: _Should I go back to Hogwarts? _

Harry had been sitting in his room for over three hours. He thought and thought about only one subject: Should I go back to Hogwarts? He hadn't come up to an answer yet; all that Harry could come up with was: Dumbledore was now deceased and Hogwarts just wouldn't be Hogwarts without him.

Hedwig flew into Harry's room through the window that Harry had always left open. She was only carrying the _Daily Prophet_.

"Hi, Hedwig," Harry said fondly to his snowy white owl. She dropped the mail on his lap and hooted at him. Harry picked up the _Daily Prophet_ and read the first headline:

The Boy Who Lived, The Chosen One…. Scar Head….

There was a picture of Harry on his broomstick from the previous year; no doubt, it said Collin C. in small print below it. The whole article was about what had happened to Dumbledore the previous year, Harry and he might be planning to do, and Voldemort.

Harry heard the front door open. Noise filled the house.

"Now, Dudley, dear, try on your new clothes again and walk down the street a few times so the neighbors can see your lovely new outfits!" Aunt Petunia was saying.

"Son," Uncle Vernon was saying at the same time. "You should call Piers and see what he bought for the upcoming school year."

"I'm going to play my new Nintendo DS!" Dudley was saying, ignoring both of his parents. _Apparently_, Harry thought, _Nintendo DS was on Dudley's back-to-school shopping list._ Dudley ran up the stairs, two at a time.

It was then when it had occurred to Harry that he was now seventeen. Now able to leave the Dursley's forever….

Harry cooked dinner that evening. Before he did, he packed his trunk and got Hedwig ready to go. He had no idea where he was going to go, but he wanted to leave so badly.

Harry cooked a special meal. The reason for this was because he was going to leave that night, and never see his relatives again if he could help it. He was going to take the night bus. But where was he to go? The Burrow? The Leaky Cauldron? Hogwarts?

The Dursley's look confused when Harry set the table that night. He put some backed turkey, mashed potatoes, peas, and gravy on each of their plates. They just sat there in awe, staring at the wonderful meal that their nephew had cooked without being told.

"What's the occasion?" Dudley asked Harry, his mouth full of turkey and peas.

"Oh, nothing," Harry replied with a grin on his face at the thought of leaving the Dursley's forever; and he gave Dudley some more turkey.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

After Harry and the Dursley's finished their dinner, Harry went up to his bedroom. He put Hedwig into her cage and got his trunk. Then he noticed the mysterious sword at the foot of his bed. He took it and slung it over his shoulder with the shoulder wrap that was on its case. Holding Hedwig's cage by the handle with one hand, and rolling his trunk with the other, he opened his bedroom door and stepped out into the hallway. He then ran into Dudley.

"What was up with the whole dinner thing?" he asked. "And where do you think your going?" Dudley added when he noticed what Harry was holding. "Bloody Hell!" He screamed when he saw Harry's sword. Harry heard a vase falling from inside the bathroom down the hall. "Where did you get that thing?"

"I wanted to say good-bye in a nice manner," Harry started. "And I'm leaving. This was a Birthday present. If you hadn't noticed, my Birthday was yesterday. "

Dudley looked confused, angry, and happy all at once. "Who did you get it from? And where are you going to go?"

"I don't know…. And away…."

Aunt Petunia came out of the bathroom with an odd look on her face; no doubt, she had just been eavesdropping on Harry and her precious, fat son.

"Dudley, I don't ever want to hear you use those two words ever again!" she informed her son. "And you are not aloud to leave!" she added to Harry. "You are not of age and if you go, then who will do the chores and look after the bacon in the morning!"

"I am seventeen years old if you hadn't noticed and you will do those things." Harry spat. "Now get out of the way!" Harry was thankful that his aunt hadn't noticed the shiny slab of metal on his shoulder. He didn't wait for his aunt to move, he just pushed her out of the way and went down stairs.

"Vernon! Vernon!" Aunt Petunia was shouting, trying to stop Harry in any way possible. Harry made it out of the door without meeting his uncle, thankful for his speed.

Harry ran, without knowing where he was going. He just ran. Then a thought entered his mind. _The night bus! I will take the night bus!_ Harry took his wand out of his pocket and stuck it up into the air. A very big purple bus came out of nowhere and stopped right in front of Harry.

"Welcome, to the night b…" a young man started. He looked up for a brief moment then looked down at the piece of paper that he was reading off of; when the image of Harry processed in his mind, he looked up again. "We meet again, Harry," Stan said. "Whoa," he added when he saw the sword. Harry didn't want to answer any questions so he decided to say something.

"Hiya, Stan," he said going onto the night bus without being told. "Could you take me to the Burrow by any chance?" Harry asked.

"I sure can," Stan replied, looking at Harry in an odd way.

When Harry entered the room-like area filled with beds on the bus, he saw that there were two other people aboard; an old man, sleeping and snoring, and a woman who looked as though she was in her late thirties.

The woman looked up from the newspaper that she was reading. Harry saw that it was the _Daily Prophet_ containing the article including him. She looked back at the Prophet and then to him; her eyes widened.

"You can just sit here Harry, lad," Stan was saying. "We have to make two stops first but I can take you to the Burrow. Say, Harry, what're you doing with a sword?"

When Stan said this, the woman's eyes grew even larger as she looked at the sword for the first time.

"It was a Birthday gift," Harry said.

"Who from?" Stan asked.

"I don't know," Harry said softly, trying not to let the witch hear; she was eagerly listening to their every word.

"You say you don't know who!" Stan almost yelled, shocked with the news.

"Yes," Harry said.

The woman spoke up. "I couldn't help overhearing," she began. "But you, Harry Potter, received an anonymous sword for your Birthday?" she stated more than asked.

"Yes," Harry said again. And then she shocked Harry with what she asked next.

"May I have your autograph?" she was holding out the _Prophet_ with a pen.

Harry had only been asked for his autograph once before, and it was his friend Colin who had asked him. "Sure," he said awkwardly, taking the pen and writing his name next to the article about him, Dumbledore, and Voldemort.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and any of the other characters. **

**Chapter Four**

Harry knew he shouldn't. He did it anyway. 'Voldemort Sucks,' he wrote under his autograph on the _Daily Prophet_.

When Harry arrived at the Burrow, it was 9:00 p.m. As he was walking towards the very tall house, he was looking through the lit kitchen window. Harry could see Mrs. Weasley waving her wand about; no doubt ordering the dishes to clean themselves. She looked up from her work and saw Harry's figure. Straining her eyes, she noticed Harry's very messy hair and skinny frame – and what he was holding; an owl in a cage, a trunk, and a sword. Mrs. Weasley jumped up a little and dropped her wand in the sink filled with bubbles.

"What's wrong mom?" asked the voice of Ron Weasley; Harry could see him going to her aid.

"Mom?" Ginny added, who was sitting at the very long kitchen table.

"It's Harry!" Mrs. Weasley said excitedly and ran out of the Burrow, giving Harry a big bear-hug.

"Wha…?" started Ron before he too left the house, Ginny following.

"Harry!" he said when he was able to see Harry – after Mrs. Weasley had finally let go of him. "What're you doing here?"

"I left," Harry said simply, smiling.

"Harry!" Ginny started. "What're you doing with a sword!"

Harry just remembered that he was carrying a sword. "It was a Birthday gift," he said.

"From who?" asked Ron.

"I don't know."

"Do you mean to tell me that this here sword was given to you for your Birthday anonymously?" Mrs. Weasley piped up.

"Yep," Harry answered as he shivered from the cold night air.

"Oh, come in, dear, and have a big steaming cup of hot chocolate," Mrs. Weasley said, steering Harry into the house.

"I wonder who gave it to you," Ron was saying. "And it has your name on it and everything!"

"Yeah," Harry replied.

The Weasley's and Harry were in the kitchen sitting at the dinner table, drinking hot chocolate and looking at Harry's sword.

"It looks like the one from my first year," Ginny said with an odd look on her face. "The only difference is that it has you name on it instead of Godric Gryffindor's."

"Yeah," Harry said again, swallowing a big gulp of his drink.

"So why did you leave the Dursley's anyway?" asked George.

"I realized that I'm seventeen…. old enough to be on my own." Harry started. "And I couldn't stand the Dursley's any longer. They had it so I was doing all of the chores…. even brushing Dudley's teeth…."

"Those foul fools!" Mrs. Weasley said angrily. "Them making my poor Harry do awful chores!" she said, acting as though Harry were her own.

"At least I'm here now," Harry said, trying to look on the bright side of things.

"Well," Mrs. Weasley said. "It's time for bed you all. We'll be getting up early to go to Diagon Alley."

"Harry, mate," Ron began. "You can sleep in my room."

"Okay, thanks." And with that, Harry took hold of his things and followed Ron to the topmost room in the very tall house. 'My God, this house it too tall!' Harry thought.

Harry awoke the next day by a very excited little owl hooting about and flying around the room.

Ron grumbled and got out of his bed, running around his orange room trying to catch Pigwigen.

Harry laughed, put his glasses on, and got up to help his friend. They were running around the room unsuccessfully trying to grasp the owl when Fred popped his head into the room saying, "What's all the commotion about?"

Harry jumped at the unexpected voice and Ron fell on top of him.

"We're trying to get that bloody owl in our hands!" Ron exclaimed.

Fred just plainly laughed, shook his head, and left the room. Harry and Ron heard him yelling, "Oh, yeah, mum told me to tell you that breakfast is ready!"

Harry and Ron started out of the room when Harry realized that he didn't have a shirt on. He quickly went to his trunk, pulled a shirt out of it, and preceded Ron. Ron didn't have a shirt on but it was his house, therefore making it more appropriate for him not to be wearing one.

Harry and Ron entered the kitchen; Harry quickly pulled his shirt on when he noticed that Ginny was there.

For breakfast they had eggs, bacon, ham, sausage, strawberries, and orange juice. It tasted as though it were the best meal Harry had all his life, since the Dursley's never given Harry this munch food at one meal, not counting the times Aunt Petunia had cooked fish. Harry got the shivers just thinking about that nasty food.

Hedwig and the Weasley's grey owl, Errol, flew through the kitchen window holding the post and _Daily Prophet_. Harry received his post and _Prophet _first, due to the fact that Errol flew straight into the wall when he entered to cozy home.

"My God………." Harry said when he opened the Daily Prophet and looked at the cover page that read:

**Harry Potter's Autograph: Featuring 'Voldemort Sucks'**

Harry couldn't believe it. Most of the Weasley's had come to Harry's side to see what he was referring to. When they skimmed the page, they didn't know what to say.

"Harry!" Gorge started laughing. "You-Know-Who sucks! Good one!"

Harry read the first two paragraphs of the article.

_Harry Potter, currently age seventeen, gave out a very rare autograph late last night. Little is known why he did so, for he only gave one other autograph of his name before and that was when he was twelve years old. Underneath his signature, Potter wrote 'Voldemort Suck'. Every witch and wizard has heard of this young man, who has been famous since the age of one year, and knows that his worst enemy is none other than the famous Lord Voldemort, the murderer of his parents._

_Potter's autograph is now in the possession of the Ministry of Magic. It is where the statue of the Wizard, Centaur, and Elf used to be, available for the whole wizarding community to see. It is gathering large crowds that the Ministry has never seen before. That very same statue had been destroyed when Potter was fifteen years old and defeated Voldemort once again inside the Ministry of Magic itself._

Harry couldn't believe it.

"Well, Harry," Mrs. Weasley started. "At least you were being truthful."

"Who asked for your autograph anyway?" Ron asked.

"Some witch on the Knight Bus," Harry replied. He put the _Daily Prophet_ down and opened the letter that Hedwig had also given him. It had no name or anything on it. Eagerly, Harry read, the Weasley's reading over his shoulder:

_Dear Harry,_

_Hogwarts is not as safe as it used to be. Bring your sword and switchblade to Hogwarts with you. Wear them every day. You are the greatest, most powerful wizard in the entire school right now. Protect your fellow students and teachers, Harry Potter._

_P.S. Wear them to Diagon Alley, too._

Harry didn't know what to think. Another anonymous letter. Who could have sent it? It couldn't have been Dumbledore, he was dead. And when he entered Diagon Alley, everyone would gawk at him more than they already do.

"Harry!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed. "You didn't mention to me that you also had a switchblade!"

"Oh, yeah," Harry began, thinking quickly of an excuse why he hadn't mentioned Hermione's gift. "I must have forgotten," Harry knew this wasn't a good excuse, but it was all he could come up with.

Mr. Weasley just came through the front door of the Burrow, holding his briefcase and looking very tired.

"Sorry, Molly, dear," he was saying, looking inside his jacket for something. "I had to work all night, what with the autograph thing and all." He looked up at his family and noticed Harry. "Not complaining, though," he added with a smile to Harry. "I will be forever grateful to young Harry Potter, the savoir of my life."

Harry smiled, not knowing how to reply.

"Well, Author, dear," Mrs. Weasley said. "You can take a little nap while we are at Diagon Alley." She looked at her wristwatch. "We should be leaving now as a matter of fact."

"Yes. See you all later," Mr. Weasley said as the Weasley's and Harry went upstairs to get dressed properly. When they were all done, Mrs. Weasley told them that they would be traveling by flow powder. Harry knew exactly what to do. He could still remember the first time he had ever traveled by flow powder; he had ended up in Knockturn Alley.

"Diagon Alley!" he said when he was standing in the warm, green fire flames.


End file.
